


Let's Start Writing (Or Drabbles to Break My Writer's Block)

by Letyourmindsoar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, Miscellaneous Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letyourmindsoar/pseuds/Letyourmindsoar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I haven't written fanfiction in so long that I find myself unable to pick up my old works. So, I am going to give myself the mission of completing 100 Drabbles before the end of the year. They'll be from whichever fandom I find myself thinking of at that moment, and they could be inspired by anything. Heck, I might even accept prompt requests if you send them. Please take a look!</p><p>(Drabble Count: 5/100)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 (12/27/13)

# Day 1 (12/27/13)

 **Inspiration:** “Read All About It” by Emeli Sande  
 **Fandom:** Harry Potter

Hermione would never understand it. The written word had such power. It could teach or create or destroy or heal or kill or transform or change, but no, people just did not realize its potential. Hardly anyone ever did. No, instead those newshounds (they did not deserve to be called be called journalists when all they did was spread lies) used it to slander her friends and family. Especially Skeeter. Oh, how she hated her! She never wrote a single word of truth, and yet, people believed her because that’s the power a newspaper writer has, especially when that newspaper is the most popular one in the Wizarding Britain. It just made her so angry! People read her articles and believe them, under the misconception only facts and truths are printed in it. The general population could never think for themselves. Oh, sure. Some would say she was one of those people, someone who believed everything she read, and she would concede that once upon a time, maybe she had been. But no, she had grown. Her friends had shown her the world, and she would never take the written word as gospel again, which was a bit paradoxical as written word could be gospel. Wait, no, that’s not the train of thought she began with. Back to the main point, the Daily Prophet was abusing the written word, and she would not stand for it anymore! She was going to write a strongly worded letter to the editor-in-chief with her complaints, and they were going to listen to her.  
It was nice being the best friend of the war hero.  
(It was also nice of George to lend her that book of hexes…)

 

 **Inspiration:** “Shattered” by O.A.R, specifically the lyric “How many times can I break until I’m shattered?”  
 **Fandom:** Harry Potter

Harry loved his friends and family to death, and he would gladly die for them (already died for them). But he didn’t know how much more he could take. Neglected and bullied as a child, dangerous encounters every school year, the war against Voldemort and the fame that came with his victory… He was just so tired. He didn’t think anyone truly understood how broken he had become. Every time he had been forced to look Death in the eyes, he had felt another piece of him break. It was just too much. He wasn’t a strong person, despite what everyone else thought. He was only human, and all humans had a shattering point. He was just afraid when he would reach his, but then again, he was never all that great at self-preservation. It was why he jumped back into the fray after the war to become an auror and round up those last Death Eaters. But once an auror, always an auror, and he couldn’t escape the job. He was stuck in a position he wasn’t sure he wanted anymore, and what else could he do anyway? He was used to being in danger constantly, might as well stick to what he was good at. He prevented himself from snorting in disbelief at his own thought. Good at being in danger? That was a statement twisted beyond belief. He was great at getting himself in danger, but he wasn’t always too great at getting himself out of it, especially since he always seemed to drag his friends into it with him. When would he learn? Probably never at this rate. He could see it in retrospect; he was getting more and more reckless with every battle he had to fight. It wasn’t the thrill of catching the bad guys, oh no. It was just the subconscious wish that maybe, just maybe, this fight will be his last. He knows he’s still young, but that’s only physically. Mentally and emotionally, he feels ancient. He’s tired, and he wants everything to be done. Maybe this is his shattering point. Maybe he has broken so many times he can’t tell anymore. Maybe today will be his last day.  
Or maybe not. Harry paused. He was a broken man. (Any man would be broken after half of the life he had led. His friends and family didn’t really know how bad his childhood had really been…) But he wasn’t shattered. Not yet.  
Maybe tomorrow.

 

 **Inspiration:** I once wrote a short exposition on why insecurity is like the boogeyman to me, which can be found here: http://miscellanyisthegame.tumblr.com/post/70883800869/insecurity-is-like-the-boogeyman  
 **Fandom:** Rise of the Guardians

Jack had been lonely for a long time. For three hundred years, he had only had the Wind. Oh, sure he had been able to play with children and prank adults throughout those three centuries, but he had still been alone. The other spirits had never interacted with him. North had never brought him a single Christmas present (he might be a spirit, but he was still a teenager, only 16, and he had believed for so, so long with the same wonder children had). Tooth had never come to see him (if she and her fairies were such fans, they could have come to say hello, since he wasn’t that hard to find). Bunny had never let him touch a single Easter egg (and the blizzard of ’68 was an accident, promise, he was in a dark, dark place that year, and he hadn’t even known it was Easter). Sandy had never given him a single dream (but he never reprimanded him for playing with his waves of dream sand, so that was something, he supposed). Sure, they were fellow Guardians and, well, friends now that he had helped them defeat Pitch, but were they really? He could pop in to any of their homes (though Sandy, like him, didn’t really have a home) and chat with any of them if they weren’t too busy, but were they really friends? He knew he could trust them with his life, but they had been so quick to dismiss him during the war with Pitch. How could he trust them with his fragile heart? He wanted friends so badly, but he made sure not to bother them too often because he didn’t want to annoy them. Logically, he understood that they would make time for him when they could, but they had their own duties to attend to. That didn’t stop him from feeling a bit of hurt every time he was turned away because they were doing something else. It was irrational, but he never said he was a rational person. Was it too much to want a surprise invitation every now and then? He didn’t think so, but what did he know? Friends weren’t his forte. Children and fun and joy were what he knew best, not friendships. He wondered if maybe he was getting in too deeply with the other Guardians. It hadn’t been that long since they had first joined together to fight Pitch, and here he was, sitting around and hoping one of them would invite him for a chat. He was being pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted North and Tooth and Bunny and Sandy to be his friends so badly. He wasn’t willing to push them and risk them not wanting to be his friends.  
He briefly thought that Pitch might have won if he had been the spirit of insecurity, rather than fear, because insecurity was similar to fear, in that it came from the shadows and darkness, but it was far more persistent. After all, it was insecurity that continued to bother Jack, not fear. He shook his head. He was being ridiculous.  
Now to see if someone would talk to him today… 


	2. Day 2 (09/07/14)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I totally forgot about this...Yay college?

# Day 2 (09/07/14)

**Inspiration:** "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry  
 **Fandom:** Prince of Tennis

It is hot - _why is it so hot?_ It feels like there is a raging fire just inches away from him - _but there's too much smoke, I can't see and I'm burning, why is there smoke?_ The smoke makes him cough - _he's coughing up blood, that's not supposed to happen, what's going on_ \- and it tastes like ash and metal and death.

He tries to remember what happened - _nothing_ \- he tries to figure out what's going on - _but he can't_.

All he knows is that there's pain - _pain pain pain, it hurts so much, it hurts everywhere, why does it hurt_ \- and so much blood - _he's lying in a puddle of his own blood, he can feel it, and he's so scared, there's blood everywhere, too much blood_.

He thinks he's dying. He has to be dying - _there's too much blood and it hurts hurts hurts, I'm dying, I don't want to die, I'm too young, I haven't reached the top yet, I don't want to die_.

But what can he do? He can't move, he can't speak, he can't see... If anyone even knows that he's there - _are those sirens, maybe they'll find me, maybe they'll save me, I don't want to die, not yet not yet not yet, please no_. He thinks he can maybe hear people screaming, but everything is starting to go fuzzy... The pain is fading, his eyes are closing, and he's not really sure of anything anymore... 

Except that he's dying. There's no way that he's not dying, and he can't find it in himself to believe that anyone will find him in the chaos. He's going to die here, broken and confused and scared and alone. This isn't how he wanted it to end - _please no, I have so much left to do, what about Seigaku, what about Nationals, my team, please no_. But he can feel it in his bones, the ones that aren't crushed anyway, that he is going to die here. Even if someone manages to find him, it will be too late.

_I'm dying_ \- he thinks he would smirk if he could, but he can't so he just imagines what a bitter smirk would look like on his face.

_I'm dying and I still had such a long way to go_ \- he thinks that maybe there are tears in his eyes now, but he does the best he can to hold them back because he still has pride. He will not die crying. Not him, not Echizen Ryoma the cheeky Seigaku rookie that destroys players so much older and bigger than him.

_I'm dying at thirteen years old_ \- his eyes finally shut - _Mada mada dane_.


	3. Chapter 3 (09/08/14)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to force myself to write drabbles more steadily... Sorry if they suck, I'm not letting myself edit them. I just want to get them written.

#  Chapter 3: (09/08/14) 

**Inspiration:** "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry  
 **Fandom:** Harry Potter

She had always assumed she was 100% heterosexual. It's not that she had anything against any other sexuality; it's just that she had always seen herself as the average heterosexual teen witch. She had the hugest crush on Harry in her earlier years, and when she finally got over that ridiculous celebrity crush, she dated a few guys here and there (Dean for the longest) without any doubts or questions about her sexuality. Then, she and Harry began their relationship, and still, she had no doubts that Harry was (and is) the one for her.

But recently, she had noticed that she was beginning to question the assumption she had held for so, so long. Oh, it wasn't anything wrong with Harry. No, she still loved Harry with all her heart, and she was certain they would be happily married in a few years. She was even certain that they would spend the rest of their lives together. They really did have something special, and they both knew it.

But despite how much she loved him, for his heart and personality with his looks as a definite bonus, she couldn't help but wonder - _what would it be like to kiss a girl?_

She tried to hint to Harry that she was wondering what it would be like, but the poor boy was as oblivious as always. He seemed to think she was no longer interested in him and wanted to end their relationship - _honestly, Harry could be so ridiculous at times._ But she finally pulled out that Gryffindor courage and told him the straight truth...and he had just easily accepted it! Merlin, he had given her _permission_ of all things.

She shook her head. She still couldn't believe that Harry was actually okay with this, but now here she was in a Muggle gay bar. _Merlin, what am I doing here? I'm curious, yes, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do._ She nervously held her drink in both hands as she looked around at all the women in the bar. She was seated a small table for two off in one of the corners of the bar, and she wasn't sure if anyone could see her looking... But even her Gryffindor courage couldn't get her to move any closer to the throng of dancing women.

"Excuse me," a sultry voice said as a finger tapped her shoulder.

Ginny turned around - _don't you dare choke, you are a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake -_ and asked in a confident voice, "Yes?"

The woman who had approached her was unconventionally gorgeous: cropped dark hair, a square jaw, sculpted arms, and legs that seemed to be nothing but muscle. She smiled at Ginny, "I noticed you've been looking around; first time here?"

Ginny cleared her throat. "How could you tell?"

The woman chuckled. "The nervous look on your face said it all, gorgeous. I'm Alanna, by the way."

 _Bloody hell, I didn't know I looked nervous, and Merlin's balls, did she just call me gorgeous?_ Ginny blushed, mentally thanking Merlin that she didn't get the Weasley trait of blushing red as a tomato. "Ginny."

"Cute name. Can I sit?" Alanna gestured to the other chair.

"Sure." Ginny said.

Alanna slid herself into the other chair, sitting sideways to face Ginny, her chin resting on one fist. "So what brings you here, gorgeous?"

"I...I've never kissed a girl before." Ginny blurted out. _Merlin, damn her brain-to-mouth habit, why would she say that, how could she say that?_

But Alanna just laughed, and her laughter made her seem even more attractive to Ginny. "Curiosity, then? Fair enough. Is that what you're looking to do then?"

 _Bloody hell, you are a grown woman, and you can get what you want, she's practically inviting you, come on._ "It is. Was that an offer?" Ginny leaned closer, angling her body to give Alanna a more complete view of her body (a trick that always worked on Harry at least).

"Gorgeous, only if you're willing." Alanna also leaned closer, bringing their faces to a distance of only a few inches apart.

At this distance, she could see Alanna's dark eyes sparkle, even in the dim lighting of the bar. She could clearly see the outlines of her full lips, and without truly intending to, she closed the distance, her head tilting to the side and her eyes fluttering shut as she did.

Ginny could feel Alanna smiling into the kiss before she began to respond - _and what a response, Merlin she's an aggressive kisser, nothing like Harry._

And there was no room for any more thoughts until the kiss was over. Alanna broke away, one hand still on Ginny's neck. Ginny could feel her heart racing and her cheeks heating up, and she was sure her lips were cherry red after that brilliant make-out session. Ginny could only breathe out, "Wow."

Alanna laughed again, her full lips redder than they were. "Gorgeous, for your first kiss with a girl, you are definitely not bad yourself." She tilted her head to the side as she intently looked Ginny head-to-toe. "And damn, I'm glad I was the one to pop that cherry."

Ginny blushed deeper. Hermione had explained the Muggle slang to her a few weeks back, and she was glad that she understood the phrase well enough to accept the compliment that Alanna had intended. Alanna stroked her cheek with her thumb. "So, Ginny, curiosity satisfied?"

Ginny simply leaned forward until their lips were touching again. "Not even close," she breathed as she sucked on Alanna's lower lip. She knew how to kiss too, and she would be damned if Alanna didn't get to realize it for herself.

~

That night, when she got home to the flat she shared with Harry, she walked in to see Harry reading in the armchair. He smiled at her. "How was your night?" She walked over to him and sat on his lap, grabbing the book and placing it face down on the table to keep his spot. Harry chuckled - _his voice is so much deeper than Alanna's_ and asked, "It was good then?" Ginny merely kissed him in response, using a few tricks with her tongue that she had learned from Alanna. Harry broke away, "That's new-" Ginny forcefully pulled him back into the kiss, savoring the taste of his mouth. She wrapped both arms around his neck, shifting so that she could straddle him. Harry responded by placing both of his hands on her waist, rubbing her hip bones with his thumbs just the way she liked it.

Alanna had tasted like whiskey and thrill and heat, but Harry tasted like _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this also turned out longer than I expected...


End file.
